


Once More With Squealing

by yumimum



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Season/Series 01, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumimum/pseuds/yumimum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Red Roses And Fairytales. Rose and the Doctor finally make it to Jackie’s Halloween Party.  What’s the worst that can happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once More With Squealing

“Remind me again how _this_ is better than Arvon-5,” the Doctor muttered, arms folded, as he glared at his highly amused companion. “We could be meeting the legendary Grimm brothers—attending the Masked Ball of Jorinde and Joringel themselves—but _no,_ you’d rather drag me round the Powell estates looking like… like…” He trailed off as Rose plonked a sombrero atop his head. “Alright. That’s it! I’m staying home.”

“Oh know you aren’t,” she replied, as seconds later the oversized hat went sailing towards the darkest recesses of the TARDIS’ wardrobe room. “ _You_ promised me a date to Mum’s Halloween party—”

“I was under _duress_!”

“Oh, you were not.”

“Were too.”

“Were—” Rose paused. “What are you? _Nine_ or nine-hundred?” she asked, her gaze straying towards a familiar orange glow illuminating a nearby rack of clothing. “Seriously! You blokes’re all the same. Just the mention of fancy dress and you start freaking out.”

“Time Lords do not _freak out_.”

“Whatever. Just be glad they’re not doing Rocky Horror, or you’d be borrowing some of Jack’s fishnets.” A look of sheer panic washed over the Doctor’s face, and raising up on tiptoes, Rose pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Next time,” she whispered, “just try to stay quiet when I’m stroking your—”

“— _ego_?” Knowingly, he toyed with the cream laces that ran the entire length of her figure-hugging corset. “Bit full of yourself, aren’t you, Rose Tyler?” He drew her in by the waist, a wicked smirk on his lips as the hard evidence of his erection pressed invitingly against her stomach. “Wouldn’t you rather be full of _me_ instead?”

“Insatiable, you are.”

“Problem?”

“Nope.” Rose smiled that tongue-touched grin that made him weak at the knees, then, eyes alight with mischief, she added the final touches to the ridiculous ensemble—a pair of soft, brown ears. “My, my, Mr Wolf,” she said, looking every inch the cat who’d got the cream. “What a big pout you’ve got.”

He chose _not_ to dignify that with a response.

 

 

“Hey, gorgeous. Got two-hundred odd bones in this ‘ere body. You wanna give me another?”

With a heavy sigh, the Doctor decided that middle-aged women and neon-green cocktails were clearly a volatile combination. In the past hour alone he’d been pinched, groped, and accosted more times than in his last three bodies combined. Rassilon, even _Jack_ had more self-restraint than the vultures currently circling around the chips and dip.

Still, there was only so much a man could handle, Time Lord or otherwise, and desperate to avoid another run-in with the voluptuous Arianna—who, by the looks of it, had obviously marched her two thousand quid straight to the nearest cosmetic surgeon—the Doctor made a hasty retreat to the blessed sanctuary of his companion’s former bedroom.

His costume lay discarded upon Rose’s pink duvet—the same place it’d been unceremoniously dumped fifty-nine minutes and thirty-eight seconds ago—and the Doctor took great satisfaction in sweeping it to the floor with a decisive _thud_. He daren’t turn on the lamp for fear of being discovered, but shrugging out of his leather jacket the Time Lord buried his face in the pillows, determined to drown out the tone-deaf ape who’d just fired up the karaoke machine in the living room.

“You know,” drawled a soft voice from the shadows, “I'm pretty sure the big bad wolf is s'posed to crawl into Grandma's bed—not that I fancy the thought of you in a frilly nightie mind...”

Cracking open an eyelid, the Doctor turned his head, finally noticing the lone figure by the window. “Thought you’d ditched me for the ghosts and goblins?”

“Nah,” Rose replied, taking a swig from her glass. “Once you’ve seen the real thing, a bunch of drunken idiots in tattered sheets doesn’t quite cut it.”

“That right?”

“Uh huh.” Her eyes found his in the dark, and the Doctor swallowed hard as she sauntered towards him. “What’s your excuse?” she asked, placing her drink on the bedside cabinet. “Bev’s mates scare you off?”

“Sort of yeah.”

“Those fan girls are a persistent lot, you know? What makes you think you’re safe in here?”

The Doctor smirked as he sat up, pulling her onto his lap. “I figure you’ll protect me.”

“Depends...”

“On what?"

“On whether my mum comes bursting through that door,” Rose replied, her face the picture of innocence. “No boys in the bedroom. House rules."

“None?”

“Never.”

Withdrawing the sonic, the Doctor aimed it at the primitive locking mechanism. “I’m far from a boy, Rose Tyler,” he said, practically purring as he nipped at her earlobe. “Thought I’d proved that last night?”

“Oh, you know us humans,” she teased, both hands sneaking beneath the hem of his jumper, “easily distracted, we are—controlled by our hormones… maybe you should remind me?

“Right here?”

“Right _now._ ”

“And your mother?”

“Is _still_ not invited,” she said, rotating her hips as a strangled moan caught in his throat. “What d’ya say, Time Lord? Trick or treat?”

“How ‘bout both?”

“Greedy.”

The Doctor’s arms tightened around her waist, and Rose let out a small shriek as he leapt to his feet and strode the few paces towards her dressing table, depositing her gently atop the sturdy piece of furniture. “Easy there, Little Red,” he whispered, palms sliding over her stocking tops and caressing the sensitive skin of her thighs. “Better with two, remember? Don’t fancy any interruptions, me.”

His companion feigned a gasp. “Are you going to eat me, Mr Wolf?” she asked, and the Doctor chuckled, easing her knees apart as he bunched the velvet dress and crinoline petticoat about her hips.

“Gonna do more than that,” he said, exposing the white lacy knickers that’d driven him half way to distraction not so very long ago. Inhaling deeply, the Doctor hooked his thumbs into the waistband, drawing them down before tucking them into his jeans pocket. “You won’t be needing those,” he vowed, steadying her at the waist as he urged her nylon covered legs over his shoulders.

The stiletto heels pressed into his spine, and Rose grasped at the polished surface, her back arching as his thumb brushed over her clit, long fingers opening her up to his covetous gaze. “Beautiful,” the Doctor breathed, leaning down to swipe at her wet folds, groaning throatily as he savoured her musky arousal. No matter how many times they did this, he knew he’d never tire of her taste, and working two fingers inside her tight walls the Doctor suckled at the swollen bundle of nerves, manipulating it with teeth and tongue.

“Please…” Rose panted as his free hand found the hidden fastening of her bodice. “Please, I… I need…”

“Tell me,” the Doctor demanded, strumming that elusive spot which made her buck against him. “Your wish is my command, Rose Tyler.”

“Oh god…” Eyes tightly shut, she clutched at the back of his head. “Need you,” she said, soft moans escaping her lips as he drove her steadily higher. “Just you… My Doctor.”

“My Rose.”

“Yes… yes… ”

A disgruntled cry fell from his companion’s lips as he removed his slick digits and returned her feet to the floor. “Turn around,” he said, guiding her to spin and face the mirror. “Want you to see this. Want you to watch as I make you fall apart.”

The sound of his zipper filtered through the raucous rendition of Sweet Transvestite coming from the room next door, and Rose whimpered as she caught the Doctor’s reflection in the glass, his cock held tightly in his palm as he stroked her juices along his length. “Look,” he repeated, and without another word he surged forward, the angle of his penetration striking her right—

“There!”

“You like this, Little Red? You like being naughty in your childhood bedroom?” The Doctor couldn’t help himself. Just knowing that he was the first—hell, _only_ one to do this, lit a fire of purely male pride within his veins. “What would your mother say, hmm? Or Ricky? What d’ya reckon they’d think if they could see you now? Getting taken from behind and loving every second of it.”

Slowly, deliberately, his hands slid over Rose’s lower back, moving upwards to knead her shoulders. She was moaning now with each thrust of his hips, and needing more the Doctor tugged at her dress, yanking at the puffy sleeves until her breasts tumbled free from their restrictive prison. The sight alone drove him on, his breath hot at Rose’s ear as he cupped the fleshy mounds—moulding, squeezing, plucking at her aching nipples until she was begging for more.

More of what, he couldn’t quite tell, but the Doctor was drowning in Rose’s pheromones, and as one set of fingers tangled in her hair, the others gathered the slick fluids of their joining and turned their attention to her other entrance.

“This alright?” he asked, massaging the tight ring of muscles until he was able to slip his thumb in to the second knuckle.

“Y-yeah…”

“You ever…”

“N-no.”

“Fantastic.” The Doctor grinned, elated at the thought of sharing another first with the woman in his arms. “We’ll save that treat for another day,” he said, his hips taking on a frantic pace as his free hand migrated to her temple. “Right now, I think it’s time for a trick…”

And just like that the world exploded.

Gone was the resounding beat of Michael Jackson’s _Thriller,_ the obscurity of Rose’s old bedroom and the chilled wood beneath her stomach, replaced as it was by lilting birdsong, the balmy warmth of twin suns in an orange sky, and a blanket of deep red grass that stretched as far as the eye could see.

The Doctor blinked back tears as he shared this, his most precious memory, with the one person who truly knew him—understood him—yet _loved_ him regardless. How long they remained within that dreamscape he didn’t quite know, but as their duel moans of completion serenaded the snow-capped mountains of his beloved planet, the Doctor slowly withdrew his presence from Rose’s mind, easing them back into the reality of their own making.

“So,” she murmured minutes later as their heart rates finally returned to normal, “still wish we’d gone to Arvon-5?”

And the Doctor chuckled. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

 


End file.
